Trescadinnick was in turmoil. Thomas Penvarrow had had some sort of seizure. One minute he had been walking through the hall on his way to the stables and the next he had crashed to the floor, taking a chair and the chenille cloth from the hall table with him.
AliceAnne, aged six, who had been in her habitual hiding place beneath the table, found herself staring at her great-grandfather’s red face only inches from her own. She let out a piercing scream which brought the housemaid, Edith, scurrying from the morning room where she had been clearing the breakfast table. Seeing the master lying on the floor, eyes closed, breath rasping in his throat, she added her screams to AliceAnne’s.
Charles Leroy emerged from his office as his mother, Louisa, came rushing from the kitchen. He took one look at Thomas and shouted for Paxton who, having heard the commotion, was already running to the scene.
‘Send Ned for the doctor,’ Charles ordered, ‘quick as you like. Then come back here and help me get Mr Penvarrow up off the floor.’
Paxton dispatched the stable lad for the doctor and then he and Charles managed to lift the dead weight of Thomas Penvarrow off the floor and carry him into the drawing room. They eased him down onto a sofa and Charles, reaching forward, pulled off the old man’s cravat and loosened his collar.
‘For goodness’ sake, girl,’ Louisa snapped at the still wailing Edith. ‘Stop that dreadful caterwauling and take Miss AliceAnne to Mrs Paxton.’ Then, turning to her granddaughter, she said more gently, ‘No need to cry, AliceAnne. Be a brave girl and go to the kitchen with Edith. I’ll come and find you in a little while.’
Her briskness had the desired effect and clamping her jaws on her screams, the maid took the child by the hand and led her through to the kitchen.
Summoned by Ned the stable boy, Dr Nicholas Bryan arrived not twenty minutes later. He had been about to set out on his rounds and the pony was already put to the gig. He strode into the house to be greeted by Charles Leroy, who held out his hand and said, ‘Ah, Dr Bryan, thank you for coming so quickly.’
He led the young doctor into the drawing room, where Thomas was still lying on the sofa, his eyes now open though unfocused.
Dr Nicholas Bryan looked down at the old man for a moment, and then kneeled beside him to lay a hand on his forehead and to take his pulse.
Thomas stared up at him, his mind befuddled, and for a moment he thought he was looking at his son, Jocelyn.
‘Joss?’ he muttered, before his vision cleared and he recognized the young doctor who had recently taken over the practice of old Dr Marshall.
‘Stay still now, sir,’ Dr Bryan said, ‘and let me look at you. Do you know who I am?’
‘Of course I do.’ Thomas’s voice was a husky whisper. ‘I’m not stupid, young man.’
‘Now, Papa,’ Louisa said, ‘you had a fall and Dr Bryan has come to make sure you’re all right.’
‘I’m perfectly all right,’ Thomas said, trying to sit up, but as he did so his head swam so violently that he lay back, gasping.
‘Stay lying down for a while and then we’ll get you up to your bed and make you comfortable.’ Dr Bryan turned to Louisa and Charles and went on, ‘He needs to be kept still and quiet for several days, with nothing to worry or alarm him. Once we’ve got him to his bed I’ll give him something to make him sleep.’
‘Don’t discuss me as if I wasn’t here,’ Thomas growled, though he made no further effort to sit up. ‘I’m not in my dotage.’
‘Certainly not, sir,’ agreed Dr Bryan cheerfully. ‘And if you do as I tell you, you’ll be up and about again in a week or two.’
With Paxton’s help, they managed to get Thomas up the stairs and into his own room. Though not prepared to admit it, he was relieved to be in his own bed. With a bad grace, he drank down the draught that the doctor prepared for him and after a short while lapsed into sleep.
‘Thank you for coming so quickly, Doctor,’ Louisa said as they went back downstairs. ‘Is there really no danger to my father?’
‘It’s difficult to tell,’ replied the doctor. ‘He’s an old man, and these things happen as one gets towards his age. They are unexplained. Sometimes they recur; others they never happen again. It is important that you keep him quiet for the next week or so until we are sure that he has recovered. Light foods, broth, a little fish, but no meat or potatoes or puddings. Try not to let him get upset or angry about anything. That is always an added risk in such cases.’
Charles gave a wry smile. ‘Easier said than done,’ he murmured.
Louisa offered the doctor some refreshment, but he shook his head. ‘Thank you, Mrs Leroy, but I should be getting out on my rounds now. I have several visits promised for today. However, I shall look in on Mr Penvarrow on my way home, just to reassure myself that there is nothing more I need to do at present.’
With a smile and a handshake, the doctor picked up his hat and walked out to his waiting pony and trap.
‘He seems to know what he’s doing,’ Louisa said as she watched him drive away. ‘Though I wish we still had Dr Marshall. He knew us all so well, and was always so reassuring.’
‘He was an old man,’ Charles said. ‘Old-fashioned in his ways. We’re very lucky to have Dr Bryan to take his place. Not many young doctors would want to bury themselves in a small place like Port Felec.’ He smiled at his mother. ‘I don’t think we need to worry about my grandfather, but perhaps I’ll send Ned over to Aunt Matty and suggest she comes over to see him.’
‘You really don’t think he’s dangerously ill, do you?’ Louisa sounded concerned.
‘No, Mother, but even so I think we should let Aunt Matty know what’s happened.’
Matty arrived at Trescadinnick before the morning was out. ‘Tell me what happened,’ she said to Louisa as she strode into the house, carrying a capacious bag which indicated that she’d come to stay. ‘Ned gave me some garbled message about Papa, so of course I came at once.’ She dropped her bag onto the floor. ‘What happened?’
‘We don’t know exactly,’ replied Louisa. ‘He had some sort of seizure, and collapsed onto the floor. We sent Ned for Dr Bryan, but by the time he got here Papa was coming round. We got him into his bed and the doctor gave him a sleeping draught, so he’s asleep now. He’s to be kept quiet and not to be angered or upset.’
‘That won’t be easy for you,’ Matty said, ‘especially if the doctor insists on him staying in bed! So, he’s going to be all right?’
‘Dr Bryan thinks so, provided he doesn’t have another attack.’
Matty looked across at her sister. ‘What’s he like, the new doctor?’
‘Personable enough. He was very efficient, rather matter-of-fact. He doesn’t have the comfortable bedside manner of Dr Marshall, but he’s coming back again later, to see how Papa is doing. If you stay you can meet him then.’
‘Of course I’m staying,’ Matty replied, unpinning her hat. ‘I plan to stay at least tonight.’ She laid her hat down on the table and as she did so she saw an envelope lying on the brass plate where the delivered post was always placed. She stared at the letter for a moment and then said, ‘Louisa, when did this arrive?’
‘What?’ Louisa had already turned to go to the kitchen.
‘This letter. It’s addressed to Papa.’
Louisa shrugged. ‘This morning’s post, I suppose. What about it?’
‘I just wondered. He hasn’t opened it.’
‘It must have arrived while we were getting him to bed,’ Louisa said. ‘I didn’t hear the postman. Edith must have taken it in.’ Louisa disappeared to tell Edith to prepare a room for her sister, leaving Matty standing in the hall, turning the letter over and over in her hands. The address was right, Thomas Penvarrow, Esq., Trescadinnick, Port Felec, Cornwall. It was the handwriting that had caught her attention: Mary’s... or very like Mary’s. Could it really be from Mary after all this time? Matty hadn’t seen or heard from her twin since the day of their brother Joss’s funeral. Mary had returned to Cornwall on that sad day and though their father had ignored her presence, Matty had been delighted to see her. They’d had plenty of time to talk before Mary had to leave to catch her train back to London. Though she had given Matty an address to write to, none of the letters Matty had sent received a reply and at length she had stopped writing. Perhaps Mary had moved, or perhaps her father’s attitude at Joss’s funeral had decided Mary that the break was now complete.
Recently, however, she had found herself thinking more and more of Mary, wondering how she was. She’d had a sense of disquiet, a feeling there was something wrong; nothing definite, just a nagging worry at the back of her mind, and now, suddenly, here was a letter. How would her father react to a letter from Mary, the first for over twenty-five years?
Thomas Penvarrow was still asleep when the family sat down to luncheon in the dining room. When they had all been served, and Edith had returned to the kitchen, Matty said, ‘There was a letter for Papa this morning.’
Louisa glanced up. ‘Yes, you said so earlier. It can wait. We don’t want to worry him with letters now. It can’t be that important.’
‘I think it might be,’ Matty said. ‘I think I know who it’s from.’
Louisa looked shocked. ‘How? You haven’t opened it, have you?’
‘No, of course not,’ snapped Matty. ‘It’s addressed to Papa.’
‘Then he can open it when he’s feeling better,’ Louisa said firmly. ‘Dr Bryan was insistent that we shouldn’t worry him with anything for the next few days.’
‘I think it’s from Mary.’ There, she’d said it.
‘From Mary?’ Louisa stared at her with incredulity. ‘What makes you say so?’
‘It looks like her handwriting.’
‘Looks like?’
‘I think it is.’
‘Well, if you’re right, we certainly can’t give it to Papa yet, if at all.’ Louisa was adamant. ‘That would definitely upset him.’
‘Why would Aunt Mary write to my grandfather after all these years?’ Charles spoke for the first time. He had no recollection of Mary, who had left when he was still a small child, and was intrigued.
Matty shrugged. ‘We shan’t know until it’s opened, shall we?’
‘Are you suggesting that we should open it ourselves?’
‘No, Charles, I’m not, but I do think we should give my father the chance to read it if he wants to.’
‘If it is from Mary, she’s probably writing because she wants something,’ Louisa said tartly. ‘Though why she thinks he’ll give her anything after the way she went against his wishes, I can’t imagine.’
‘She’s still his daughter,’ replied Matty, ‘and our sister.’
‘Papa doesn’t regard her as such, and to be honest, Matty, neither do I. Mary walked out on this family, causing a scandal we all had to live down. She made her bed, so she must lie in it.’
Matty’s lips tightened but she made no answer to this, simply pushed her plate away and got up from the table. What Louisa said was true, but even so, Matty knew she couldn’t simply forget that she had a sister, and a twin at that.
‘I’m going up to sit with Papa,’ she said.
‘He’s asleep,’ snapped Louisa.
‘Perhaps he is, but I’m going to sit with him until he wakes up.’
‘You’re not to tell him about the letter,’ Louisa said fiercely. ‘It’s not up to you, and I don’t trust you.’
‘I don’t trust you either,’ Matty retorted. ‘I have the letter safely with me and it’ll stay with me until the time comes to give it to Papa.’ She hadn’t really thought Louisa would destroy the letter, not until this moment, but now she was glad that she had tucked it into her bag.
Matty was still sitting with her father when Dr Bryan returned to have another look at his patient. Louisa brought him upstairs and having introduced him to Matty said to her father, ‘Now then, Papa, here’s Dr Bryan come to see you again.’
Thomas was propped up against his pillows, awake and already fretting at being confined to bed. ‘As if I were some ninny of a schoolgirl.’
‘I understand your frustration, sir,’ Dr Bryan said. ‘But it will speed your recovery if you follow my advice and keep to your bed for another few days.’
‘They’re feeding me pap,’ growled Thomas. ‘I want some bread and cheese and a glass of brandy. That’s what I need to speed my recovery!’
‘Certainly a glass of brandy will do you no harm,’ the doctor agreed with a smile. ‘But nourishing soups are the diet I would prescribe for a day or so. We don’t want to put a strain on your digestion until you’re quite well.’
When the doctor was leaving, Matty went downstairs with him. She liked the way he had dealt with her father; not many people could handle him so well. He had made Thomas agree to stay in bed for the next day at least, and then only to come downstairs for a while in the afternoons.
‘You don’t feel his condition is serious?’ she asked as they stood together in the hall while Edith retrieved Dr Bryan’s coat.
‘One can never be sure,’ replied the doctor, ‘not with a man of his age. But he seems tough and I expect him to make a good recovery. He may have to slow down his pace of life, take things a little easier. This seizure today is a warning. If he heeds it there may be nothing further.’
Matty held out her hand. ‘Thank you, Doctor, you are very encouraging.’
‘What a charming man Dr Bryan is,’ she said as they all sat down to dinner that evening. ‘I think he’ll be very popular in the village.’ She smiled across at her sister. ‘He’s good-looking too, don’t you think?’
‘Maybe.’ Louisa was dismissive. ‘I haven’t given his appearance much thought. It’s his skill as a doctor I’m interested in.’
‘So am I,’ agreed Matty. ‘But I’m sure he’ll set a few hearts aflutter in the village.’
‘Well, that has nothing to do with us,’ returned her sister tersely, and gave her attention back to her plate.
Matty said no more. She and her elder sister did not get on well these days. Louisa resented the fact that Matty’s marriage to George Treslyn had released her from Trescadinnick, leaving her, Louisa, to deal with their father. George’s death several years ago had left Matty with a financial independence that Louisa envied. When her own husband, James, had died, Charles was just eleven and she’d been left, with little money, to bring him up alone. She always regretted she and James had no children, but she loved her stepson as if he were her own and had done her best to give him a happy childhood. They had remained at Trescadinnick, the only home Charles knew, and Louisa continued to run the household and care for her father as she had since her mother’s death all those years ago. Thomas seemed fond of Charles and had paid for his education at Blundells School in Devon. Since leaving school Charles had worked with Daniel Treglyn, the estate manager, learning the ins and outs of the estate. When Daniel had retired and gone to live with his widowed sister in Truro, Charles had taken his place, and as Thomas grew older he became increasingly reliant on Charles. Since both his sons had died young, Thomas had no son to inherit the house and estate, and Louisa assumed that her father would leave it all to Charles when he died. But that was all in the future and it annoyed her when Matty breezed into the house, inviting herself to stay and telling Louisa how to look after their father.
The letter was a case in point. Matty still maintained that they should give it to their father to open straight away. Louisa refused to do so, feeling it might bring on another attack.
‘But supposing it’s from Mary,’ Matty said, ‘and he does die without reading it.’
‘He’s not going to die in the next few days,’ snapped Louisa. ‘We’ll give it to him when he’s on his feet again and not before.’
The argument was left at that. But, to Louisa’s annoyance, Matty elected to stay at Trescadinnick until Thomas was better and she could hand him the letter from London.
The day came a week later when Thomas came down to breakfast in the morning room. Charles had already left the house to ride to one of the outlying farms and AliceAnne had been sent up to the schoolroom. Matty and Louisa sat at the table with their father as he ate some scrambled egg and drank his coffee.
‘Where’s my post?’ he suddenly demanded. ‘I’m expecting a letter from my solicitor.’
‘It’s waiting for you, Papa,’ Matty said. ‘I’ll fetch it.’
Several letters had accumulated over the past week and despite Louisa’s frown of dissent, Matty slipped the envelope she’d been keeping in her bag in with the rest of his mail.
She saw her father put on his spectacles, then slit open the envelope to pull out the single sheet of paper that it contained. She watched as the colour fled from his cheeks and the letter fell to the table.
‘Papa, are you all right?’ Louisa was immediately on her feet. ‘I knew we shouldn’t have given you that.’ She snatched up the letter, crumpling it in her hand.
Thomas recovered himself and said sharply, ‘Give that to me.’
Reluctantly Louisa handed him the crumpled letter, and he smoothed it out on the table before handing it to Matty, saying, ‘Read it to me, Matilda.’
Matty stared at the letter for a moment before she began to read. It was dated nearly three weeks ago and sent from an address in Hammersmith in London. She cleared her throat and began to read aloud.
Dear Papa
I’m dying. I have the same wasting sickness as poor Mama and it will only be a few days until it’s all over. My husband died in an accident some years ago and with my death my beloved daughter, Sophia, will be left alone. Our small capital is all but exhausted and the annuity I have from my mother dies with me, so Sophie will have to make her own way in the world. She is an intelligent girl and I have no doubt she will manage alone if she has to, but I am writing to you this last time to ask if you will provide for her in the way your only grandchild should be. I wrote to you when she was born and you ignored my letter, but as I am dying, I am prepared to beg you to look after her.
I may have wronged you, but she is your flesh and blood and she has not.
I have told her nothing of you or of Trescadinnick, so that if you decide to ignore my dying plea, she will not know she’s been rejected.
I bid you farewell, Father, for when you receive this letter I shall be in my grave.
Your daughter,
Mary Ross
Silence descended on the room and then, with a groan of despair, Thomas Penvarrow took the letter from Matty’s hand and getting unsteadily to his feet, left the room.
Louisa rounded on Matty. ‘You see!’ she cried. ‘I was right. We should never have given him that letter. We should have burned it unopened.’
‘We should have done no such thing!’ said Matty, equally angry. ‘Mary wrote to him and he was entitled to receive her letter. If he hadn’t been ill, he’d have had it days ago.’
‘I said she’d be asking for something,’ Louisa reminded her.
‘Yes, you did, but it wasn’t for herself, was it? It was for her daughter, a daughter we didn’t even know she had.’
‘Well, now you’ve seen the letter delivered, you can go back home,’ snarled Louisa. ‘I hope you’re satisfied with the effect it’s had on Papa and can only pray that it doesn’t bring on another attack. You saw how he looked!’
Matty had been shocked when she’d seen her father’s face as she read the letter to him. But she wasn’t prepared to admit as much to Louisa, so she simply got to her feet and followed her father out of the room, leaving Louisa alone with her anger.